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Updated: May 3, 2025
By-and-by, as the meal went on, as Louis trod to and fro across the polished floor, and the last insects of summer hummed sleepily outside, and the two gracious faces continued to smile at me out of the gloom for the ladies sat with their backs to the door I began to dream again, I began to sink again into folly, that was half-pleasure, half-pain.
She did not guess why, did not even imagine the reason, but the tears came to her eyes with a smarting sting, and with them that feeling of overwhelming joy that was half-pain, the feeling that rushed over her so often when her father read some sublime passage from the Scriptures.
Lady Staneholme would fain have made her town-bred daughter-in-law enamoured with the duties of a country life, and cheered the strange joylessness of her honeymoon. Failing in this attempt, she, with a covert sigh, half-pain, half-pleasure, resumed the old oversight of larder and dairy.
She was to wake to the old weight, half-joy, half-pain, but more and more she was to feel the new dread that she was growing out even of that, left in a dryness that belittled the past; but the periods of numbness once begun had to go on in spite of her, and with their bitterness was mingled at least the negative healing of indifference.
You do not keep your eyes closed long, though something is about to happen you grow expectant, you wait, you listen, you hold your breath everything trembles with a delight that is half-pain, under the invigorating caress of the coming day. You breathe fast, and then you hold your breath and listen. You wait. You peer. You listen. Bing! A ray of pale yellow light shoots from horizon to zenith.
And truly, that One did be smiling very naughty and dainty to herself; so that I perceived that I had not truly whipt her enough; but yet I could harden my heart no more at that time; for, in verity, there doth be a strange half-pain in the bosom, if that you have to flog a maid that doth be utter thine, and this to the despite that there hath been as then no properness of anger to have for an after self-reproach.
"It is your father. He has made charity and kindness real things to me." "Poor papa!" said Ursula, whose tears were arrested in her eyes by the same surprised sensation, half-pleasure, half-pain, which hushed even Janey's voice. They were "struck," as Mrs. Hurst had said, but by such a strange mingling of feelings that neither knew what to make of them.
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